


Healing Hurts

by Mrs_Strife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Poor Prompto, Prompt Fill, Self-Esteem Issues, Tragedy, hes a babe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Strife/pseuds/Mrs_Strife
Summary: After the Fall happens, Prompto spends his time looking after the others in the party and staying up late to help them with their nightmares to earn his stay with them. If he can just prove he belongs, prove that he's not just a waste of space inside the Regalia... Maybe he can save more than just Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus. Maybe he can save himself. Prompto has a lot to learn about friendship.





	Healing Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt I found whilst scouring the internet in my eternal boredom:  
> Original Prompt: After the Fall happens, Prompto spends his time looking after the guys and staying up late to help them with their nightmares. Eventually, this takes a toll on him and he falls very ill. The guys realize what he’s been doing and feel super guilty for not realizing he needed help sooner. (+Gladio has the worst nightmares, ++Prompto reminds Ignis to eat, +++Noctis finds Prompto passed out in an armchair)

In the beginning, Prompto’s list of things he hated was exceptionally short. He couldn’t stand any intentional harm toward domestic creatures, the scale  _still_ scared him stiff, and tofu wasn’t food despite anything Ignis said.

It only took an instant. The walls of Insomnia fell and its people burned with its crumbled concrete towers. In the aftermath, he stood on a ledge overlooking his fallen home with his closest friends. He felt his list growing longer than it had ever been before. He despised the Empire with a burning passion, hated the freezing rain that made his pants stick to his skin, and he couldn’t stand to watch his friends suffer while he stood by helplessly.

The Regalia was filled to the brim with tragic silence as Ignis turned the sleek car into Cindy’s gas station. She was unbearably stuffy; Prompto twiddled his thumbs uncomfortably, praying for someone to speak up. Finally, Ignis took a deep breath.

“I suggest we get some rest before meeting Cor,” he uttered, looking up into the rearview mirror in an effort to catch Noct’s eye.

Prompto watched the advisor nervously, glancing into the backseat. Gladio’s head rested against his headrest, eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed tightly. If it was appropriate in that moment, he might’ve taken a photo—for the sake of memories. Noctis sighed and pushed his door open, slamming it shut behind him.

Frowning, Prompto bit into his lip and watched his best friend trudge through the cold rain. Ignis sighed, taking the keys from the Regalia’s ignition and wordlessly leaving the shelter of the car to follow in respectful silence. The blonde dug his teeth in harder. He wanted to do something to help so desperately he thought his chest might burst by the time he made it to the caravan. Taking a deep breath, Prompto pressed his boots to the floor, stretching across his seat and twisting around to look at Gladio. The shield’s face remained pulled into a tight frown; he looked angry. Gingerly, Prompto reached out and shook a firm shoulder.

“Nap time’s over, big guy,” he mumbled, patting the rough beard along Gladio’s jaw in an effort to awaken the beast of a man before him.

“Should’ve… Noct…” Gladio grumbled, shifting in his sleep. Prompto felt another pang of helpless guilt resonate through his chest.  _What’s he dreaming about?_ Trembling fingers swatted harder at tattooed skin, Prompto’s toes pushing him closer to Gladio.  _C’mon…_ “I can’t…” Gritting his teeth, Prompto grabbed both shoulders and shook even harder.

“C’mon, Gla—“

“ _Shit!”_

Blinding white pain seared across Prompto’s forehead as Gladio sat up abruptly, swiping at the sweat that beaded his face. Grimacing, the blonde clutched the bruise forming on his head.

“You alright, big guy?” he asked innocently, greeted with unreadable amber eyes.

“Yeah,” Gladio grumbled, reaching up one hand to push his messy hair off his face. Prompto’s eyes narrowed momentarily. Was he…  _Shaking?_ “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“No biggie,” Prompto shrugged, feigning indifference.  _Really, it wasn’t a big deal_. His head still hurt a lot, though. He paused his next teasing words upon catching Gladio rubbing his face tiredly. “You… sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” Gladio replied defensively, raising his walls abruptly with a sharp glower. Half a second later, the swordsman clambered away to the Crow’s Nest, shutting the car door just a bit too hard behind him.

Sighing, Prompto allowed his knees to sink further into the leather seat beneath him.  _I’m sorry…_ After taking a few minutes to sort his thoughts, he opened his door and stepped outside. The gas station’s broad cover protected him from getting drenched immediately by the heavy rainfall, though the humidity alone packed enough power to wilt the perfectly messy pile of blonde hair on his head. Perhaps any other time he would’ve rushed to fix it in any reflective surface available. At the moment, though, more important things occupied his mind.

Hugging his bare arms to himself, Prompto ran through the rain and into the Crow’s Nest. The heavy smell of burgers and fries wafted into his nose; instead of the hunger he expected, his stomach tightened and a wave of nausea over him.  _Not interested—got it._ He shook the water from his hair, watching Ignis lead the way out the door he just entered through.

“Wait for me, will ya?” he huffed, stepping right back out into the cold and walking close to Noct. A shiver shot straight down his spine.

Ignis turned the key to the caravan in its rusty lock, pushing the door open wide and stepping inside with an uncharacteristic amount of mud tracking in behind him. Prompto’s eyebrows pinched together.  ** ** _Iggy_**** _didn’t even wipe his shoes off._ One by one, they trailed into the camper. By the time Prompto made it inside, his teeth chattered, his lips turned blue, and goosebumps covered every inch of his freckled skin. Realization dawned on Ignis’s face as soon as the front door shut.

“We forgot our spare clothes,” the tactician sighed, pressing a gloved finger to the middle of his glasses. Prompto felt his heart leap into his throat as Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, reaching for the doorknob.

“No!” he cried, earning three pairs of sharp eyes. “I-I’ll get ‘em, Iggy. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you,” Ignis breathed, peeling his soggy jacket off and hanging it on the nearby coat hanger.

Prompto took a deep breath and stepped outside, sprinting across the wet pavement and ducking under the gas station cover gratefully. Without hesitation, he threw the Regalia’s trunk open and slung backpack after backpack over his shoulder until he clumsily wielded all four bags. He took off in the direction of the caravan with a sharp turn. Halfway there, his boots’ tread gave out on the slick street, leaving the bags sprawled out amongst several puddles.

“Aw, man,” Prompto huffed, scooping up the soaked backpacks and continuing on his way with an extra shot of guilt rushing through his veins. He knocked the door open with one knee, awkwardly dropping the pile of dripping backpacks before the patchy couch once Ignis opened the caravan. Noctis crinkled his nose, eyeing the bags in disgust.

“They’re all gross,” he grumbled, turning on his heels and stepping into the cramped bathroom. Prompto shook his head, running a hand through his wet hair dejectedly.  _Sorry._

“We’d better get to bed soon,” Ignis sighed, kneeling down to dig through his clothes in hopes of finding something dry. Finding nothing, the advisor straightened and looked at Prompto. The blonde turned his eyes away quickly, crossing his arms. “Two people per bunk, I suppose.”

“I get my own bed,” Noctis said firmly, leaving the bathroom and pulling himself up on the top bunk. “Goodnight,” he muttered, pulling a pillow over his head.

“Someone’s being a royal pain in the ass,” Gladio grumbled, peeling his jacket off and digging through his backpack for a damp pair of sweatpants.

“He’s had a hard day,” Ignis replied  _almost_  defensively.

“We all have,” Prompto rushed with a nod. Gladio raised an eyebrow at him. Prompto chose to look away and turned to the couch. The sense that he needed to earn his place tugged at his heart again and he spoke before he realized. “You guys share the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“You sure?” Gladio asked, frowning. “I’m not sure if that thing can hold both me and Iggy.”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” the gunman nodded, flopping down on the ragged piece of furniture to prove his point. A spring stabbed up into his back and buried itself in his shirt, but he forced a smile anyway. “See?”

“I suppose that could work,” Ignis gave in, sighing and heading toward the bed.

“Hey, uh, Ignis?” Prompto sat up enough to rest his weight on his elbows. “Shoes?”

“Thank you, Prompto,” Ignis muttered, kicking his shoes off and sliding into the bottom bunk.

“Night, kid,” Gladio grumbled, awkwardly shuffling into the space that remained on the small mattress. After several minutes of flopping, he gave in and pressed his back to Ignis’s. Deep snores resonated through the room five minutes later.

Prompto had no such luck. The springs in the couch bruised his back, his ribs, his neck. The cold of the room left him shivering, hugging his warmth to himself. The erratic thrum of raindrops against the tin roof of the caravan reverberated through his skull. For hours, he lay in the dark with his eyes squeezed shut and his arms wrapped around his thin frame. But sleep never came. He sat up with an irritated huff, looking up at the narrow window above his head. The moon hung stubbornly high in the sky. With a shudder, he reached for his phone and nearly blinded himself with the light of the screen.  _Only two thirty… Feels like I’ve been up all night, though._

He set his phone back on the carpeted floor and laid back down, shifting uncomfortably. He was definitely going to have extra bruises in the morning. The big blue ones that hurt like hell _._ Staring at the ceiling did nothing to make him tired, and neither did laying on his stomach. For all his endeavors, he only received more jabs to the ribs. After turning onto his back once more, he heard a creak.  _Must be this crummy couch._ But it came even when he stilled.

Prompto frowned, sitting up once more and squinting into the darkness. Gladio flipped onto his back, another creak resonating through the small room. He watched as Gladio tossed and turned. Ignis appeared to sleep peacefully through the jostling; then again, Ignis always slept like the dead. Gladio grumbled something in his sleep Prompto couldn’t quite catch. Just as suddenly as the creaking started, it stopped. Gladio went stiff, his breaths loud and heavy. Quickly, Prompto laid back down, shutting his eyes and relaxing. He had the feeling that  _maybe_  he wasn’t supposed to see that.

A final creak sounded out; Prompto peeked through his lashes to see Gladio standing, walking toward the faucet beside the short refrigerator. He watched as Gladio turned on the tap and ducked his face under the faucet, shaking the cold water into his hair and rubbing away the sweat on his skin. Finally, the sink shut off and Gladio pressed his big hands to the counter, staring out the window before him into the night that befell Hammerhead. His muscles were tight, his entire body stiff with some resonating thought Prompto couldn’t hear.

But he needed to help. He had yet to see anything that bothered Gladio this much. Whatever was keeping his friend from sleep, he would fix it. Prompto sat up gingerly, though he couldn’t prevent the couch from squeaking beneath his weight. Gladio turned his eyes to Prompto’s, holding the contact for several seconds before dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he grumbled.

“You didn’t wake me,” Prompto shook his head, stretching his sore arms.

“Hn,” Gladio hummed, turning to look back out to the window. Prompto carefully swung his legs off the couch and planted his bare feet on the rough carpet.

“So… Why’re you up?” he asked, careful to keep his voice exceptionally low. Gladio said nothing, keeping his eyes trained on the dim lights of Hammerhead.  _Doesn’t he trust me?_ The next minute and a half lasted an eternity as he anticipated an answer he thought might never come. Finally, Gladio sighed and the tightness of his posture melted.

“Can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened,” he grumbled, keeping his eyes stubbornly pointed at the window.

“What do you mean?” Prompto frowned, crossing his legs and pressing his freezing hands to his knees. “Like, if we hadn’t left?”

“Something like that. Insomnia might’ve stood a chance.”

“… What?” Prompto blinked into the darkness, brows furrowed in clear confusion. “But they would’ve come after Noct too, right?”

“I could’ve stopped them,” he shook his head. “They’re chasing him anyway, Prompto.”

“We can keep him safe,” the blonde replied eagerly, straightening and forcing a hopeful smile onto his face.

More moments of silence followed. The only sound that disturbed the quiet was the slightest shuffle of Gladio turning to face Prompto, his back leaned to the edge of the stained countertop as he crossed his tattooed arms and glued his eyes to the floor. Prompto felt his heartbeat pick up in his chest as the darkness consumed him, pulling him away into an inescapable pit of despair and confusion, tugging at his hair and his clothes and his  _soul._ He took a shaky breath, gritting his teeth and fighting back against the enticing whispers of the dark. Finally, Gladio took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter; it was a dream.”

He turned on his heels, shutting the bathroom door firmly behind him. The dim glow of the light shined underneath the wooden panel and that was the end of it. Prompto’s eyes refused to leave the golden blaze seeping into the room. It felt like his skin burned with real flames. Flames that ate away at everything he was and left nothing but a pile of cooling ash on the floor of the caravan. Prompto fended them off with a shudder, hugging his arms to himself.  _But it matters to me…_

~|~|~|~|~

Prompto shut his eyes, feeling the wind pull at his hair. His bare arms served as his pillow on the edge of the window, soaking in the warmth of the desert sun. He knew the sun would mark out a new map of freckles on his skin; he welcomed them. Ignis drove silently; Noct and Gladio snored in the backseat, the latter with a novel spread across his chest. The scents of sunbaked stones and lake water mingled with the smell of Ignis’s can of Ebony. A pleasant day, despite their circumstances. At least, Prompto wanted to think so.

On the brink of sleep, Prompto jolted awake when Gladio’s knee slammed into the back of his seat. Ignis frowned, passing a glance over his shoulder before turning his sharp green eyes back to the endless stretch of road. Prompto, chewing on the inside of his cheek, knelt on his seat and leaned over the back edge to see Gladio glaring off into the passing scenery. One hand clenched into a fist on his leg. The other clutched his book so tightly the page he left off on tore under the pressure of his thumb.

Noctis groaned, rolling over in his seat and burying his face into the black leather. Amber eyes turned briefly to the blonde awaiting them. Just as quickly as they came, they left. Gladio obviously didn’t want to talk. Sighing, Prompto turned back in his seat and rested his chin on his elbow. The tiniest bit of black ink peeked out from under the bandana tied around his wrist. He covered it quickly, his heart rate spiking as he made sure no one saw.  _All good._

Hours later, Ignis pulled into a shoulder in the road. The car remained eerily silent. Prompto, awake with his eyes closed tightly, felt goosebumps prickle up and down his skin. Finally, Ignis pushed his door open and Gladio followed quickly. Prompto sighed, pushing himself to leave and stretch his arms over his head. A glimpse of the sunset made him smile; he snapped a quick photo before he guiltily tucked his camera away with a glance at the backseat of the Regalia. Noct slept away while Ignis and Gladio unloaded the trunk, making quiet conversation thick with tension. About Gladio’s wellbeing, no doubt.

Prompto crept up to the side of the car carefully, reaching out a hand and shaking Noct’s shoulder as gently as he possibly could.

“Hey, buddy. Time to get up.”

Noctis grumbled something under his breath, jerking away from Prompto’s touch. Sighing, the blonde tried again, only to be hit away and met with angry gray-blue eyes.

“I said get  _off_ ,” Noctis snapped, throwing the door open.

Prompto cried out as the force of the swing left him on the ground, hips and stomach alike aching from the impact. The prince hardly spared him a glance as he stomped away groggily. Staring up at the sky, Prompto swallowed his anxious thoughts of being discovered and pushed himself to his feet.  _If I look upset, I’ll look weak._ As far as he could see, there was no point to his being there. What was he? Gladio, the shield. Ignis, the advisor. Prompto, the… friend? The cheerleader? It just didn’t seem right to him.

Silence filled the camp, too. The four sat around the fire, staring into the flames. Prompto swore one or two flickers looked like his apartment door. A door he missed far too much. Sighing, Ignis stood, crossing his arms.

“What would you like for dinner, Noct?”

“Not hungry,” Noctis muttered, falling backward to lay on his back and lace his pale fingers behind his head. So many emotions flickered behind his eyes and Prompto fought to decipher one from the other. Resigned, he leaned his weight back on his palms and felt the empty growl of his stomach.

“Not hungry?” Ignis frowned, eyeing the prince. Deciding whether or not to fight him. Finally, the tactician gave in with a sigh. “Gladio?”

“Can’t eat,” Gladio grumbled, staring at his phone screen. Prompto’s stomach sank as Ignis’s eyes turned to him.

“I, uh… Nah, I don’t wanna eat anything right now, Ignis. Can’t stomach it, ya know?”

“I suppose,” the advisor nodded, settling back on the ground. Several minutes of nothing but the popping of the fire and the howls of sabertusks finally broke when Noctis spoke up.

“I’m gonna turn in,” he huffed, getting to his feet and crawling into the tent.

Gladio grumbled something and followed. Prompto felt Ignis’s eyes on him and he forced himself to be more energetic, despite the painful burn of exhaustion in his eyes. After the night before, he had yet to catch up on sleep. Something always stopped him, jerking him away from that sweet plunge into unconsciousness at the last second.

“You, uh, wanna play a round of King’s Knight, Iggy?”

“No, thank you,” Ignis replied, standing to dust off his pants. “I don’t know if I could concentrate on games at a time such as this. Goodnight, Prompto.”

With that, Ignis disappeared and Prompto sat alone. The photographer shuddered at the advisor’s words.  _Games at such a time as this._ Did he say something wrong? He only wanted to cheer Ignis up, to lighten the mood that Noctis and Gladio kept dragging down. It felt like they were just cats pawing at the tablecloth on his dinner table, pulling until everything came crashing down because it was  _fun._ Prompto shook his head, hugging his knees to his chest.  _No, don’t think like that. Earn your place. You’re not like them._

His eyes grew heavier as time passed and he shivered against the cold when the fire died. A howl echoed against the stone of the haven and Prompto’s heart leaped into his throat. What if… the daemons made it up somehow, fighting against the glowing blue runes of their campsite? Prompto nearly screamed when Noctis stumbled out of the tent, clapping a hand down over his mouth abruptly. Genuine concern quickly overtook fear and he jumped to his feet.

“Everything alright, Noct?”

“I can’t sleep,” the prince grumbled, passing the gunman groggily and sitting on the edge of the haven. Fighting the fear that the daemons would gobble his feet up, Prompto followed suit and sat close to Noctis, feeling the warmth of his friend’s shoulder pressed against his.

“What’s up?”

“I keep thinking about what happened,” Noctis muttered, picking at the material of his black pants. “About the empire... There never was a wedding, was there?” He shook his head, glaring out at the plains surrounding them. Prompto listened in silence, absorbing every word. “And Dad…” The low voice by Prompto’s ear wavered, cutting off as Noct’s throat caught. “He knew the whole time, didn’t he? He got me out but he didn’t save anyone else.” The prince shook his head harder than before, sniffing his running nose. “Dad… There was so much I never got to tell him.”

“It really sucks,” Prompto murmured, brows pinched together as he thought, taken aback by Noct’s sudden display of emotion. “No one ever deserved this, ya know?”  _Except me._ “Especially not your dad. But we gotta keep going, yeah? No sense in stopping now.”

“I’m not stopping,” Noctis said firmly, though he only reassured himself. “I can’t let it all be for nothing.”

“And besides, you still have Luna, right?” Prompto added in a small voice. Noctis nodded, folding his hands together.

Hours passed by, enveloped in the sounds of living creatures, wind, and water. Noctis never took his eyes from the skyline and he finally grew still. Prompto fought sleep until sleep gave up and let him sit in silence. All too soon, the sun peeked over the horizon and spilled a golden glow across the grassy oasis they found on the edge of the desert. Today, they were to chase Cor, but in that moment, Prompto refused to worry. His job: to be there for Noctis. His sacrifice was sleep.  _I guess there are worse things._

“Up already, Highness?” Ignis asked, stepping from the tent and walking toward his cooking equipment. “I suppose you’ll want breakfast this morning?”

“Yeah, actually, that would be great,” Noctis yawned, standing and stretching before leaving Prompto to talk to his advisor.

The gunman forced feelings of abandonment and underappreciation down with a shake of his head and thanked Ignis for his plate of eggs and toast gratefully. He noticed that Ignis only prepared three servings, though he didn’t speak up for fear of irritating the tactician. He saw the dark circles under Gladio’s eyes and heard not a word from the normally jovial shield all morning. He refused to ignore the drowsy lids hanging over Noct’s bloodshot eyes. But he said nothing, shoveling another bite into his mouth. Determined to prove his worth, he promised to continue to support them in their time of need, no matter what it took from him. Even if it meant unbearable silence.

~|~|~|~|~

Prompto couldn’t breathe. Days of watching Ignis refuse to eat, afternoons of listening to Noct when he wanted to talk, nights of silently calming Gladio in his sleep… his eyes burned, his muscles ached, and he felt on verge of illness. But he pressed on, watching the others retire for the night one by one as he sat by the fire. They hardly spared him a glance anymore, most likely assuming the blonde merely coped with grief best when alone by piles of flaming logs. Prompto had never felt this alone before. But, fearing it to be selfish to wish for a minute of attention, he trailed the others in silence like a dog, kicked far too many times to continue barking.

Throwing himself onto his back beside the fire, he stared up at the passing clouds in the night sky. Every time Gladio jolted awake, Prompto rushed to distract him, to cheer him up. Noctis always had an ear ready to listen to his rants, to his fears, to his sorrows. Ignis… Prompto sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t know what to do. They played fine, but at the end of the day, when the game ended, they were just as fractured as the school window Prompto smashed with a rock in middle school. He forced his eyes open again, refusing to stare back at the screaming, bloody citizens of Insomnia that awaited him in the deepest reaches of unconsciousness. All damage was done at the metallic hands of the monsters made of the same stuff he was.

However, the nights ran colder the further they drive into the Cleigne, and eventually, Prompto found himself tossing and turning beside his troubled teammates. After a particularly hard night, Prompto peeled his eyes open, finding the tent wide open already. It had nearly been twelve days since the fall of Insomnia. Why couldn’t they get over it?

“Here you are, Prompto,” Ignis greeted, handing Prompto a plate piled with their usual breakfast. His voice was dry, his eyes horrifyingly sunken, his sharp cheekbones the slightest bit more prominent. Prompto finally snapped.

“No,” the blonde replied firmly, shoving the plate into the advisor’s hands and dragging a fold-out chair over. “Sit down and eat, Iggy. You’re no good if you’re starving.”

“We have more if I…” Ignis started to protest, cut off abruptly when Prompto shoved a fork into his slender hand.

“Eat.” With blue eyes staring at him intensely, Ignis gave in and took a bite of the rapidly chilling eggs on his plate. Prompto breathed a sigh of relief and a sense of accomplishment washed over him.  _There we go._ Not everyone possessed enough willpower to overcome Ignis’s stubborn nature.

“Where to today, Specs?” Noctis asked, setting his empty plate aside and leaning back in his seat. The dark bags under his eyes were lighter than they were the day before. Sighing, Ignis swallowed a dry bite of toast and looked across the ashy fire pit to the prince.

“Perhaps we should head back to the outpost down the road to restock on restoratives. Of course, we’ll need to complete a bounty or two before we do so. Gladio, do you still hold the flyers in your possession?”

“Yeah,” Gladio grumbled, digging into his pocket to reveal a roughly folded, wrinkled stack of papers. He pulled one free, showing Ignis. Prompto couldn’t see, but he trusted his friends’ judgment. “This one should be easy.”

That one was not easy. Prompto gasped for breath, choking on air as he scrambled to avoid getting toppled by a rushing garula. The golden fur of the alpha male glinted in the dim sunlight, taunting him. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his gun free and fired another round at the massive beast. The sun fell nearly an hour ago; goblins began to crawl out of dark recesses. Noctis shouted something. Prompto didn’t hear. His head spun and his vision swam. His muscles only obeyed in slow motion as the garula charged toward him. Blue eyes slid shut, awaiting impact. It never came.

The loud grunt of Gladio drew him to open his eyes. The garula fell the side, its face hardly recognizable after the damage the greatsword did to its flesh. Prompto had no clue when he wound up on the ground, staring up at the sky through bleary eyes. His body wouldn’t  _obey_. Gladio dragged him to his feet.

“What’s wrong with you?!” he demanded. Prompto shook his head, trying to clear his senses.

“N-nothin’. I’m good, I promise.”

“Get your act together,” Gladio warned, rushing to help Noctis and Ignis tackle the rest of the daemons. Cursing himself under his breath, Prompto drew his gun and busied himself with firing at the goblins.  _Target practice_ , he told himself. The back of his mind screamed that that was strike one, that it was the first of infinite useless moments to come.

Something pricked at his leg; refusing to stop and think, Prompto fired, blasting the head off a goblin poking at his calf with a  _stick._  Amused, the gunman picked up the twig. “Yeah, you sure showed me,” he taunted with a laugh, dropping the wand to help the others yet again.

The last of the daemons fell and fist bumps made their way around the circle of companions. Prompto found his head spinning worse than before and his breath escaped him again. Doubled over, the blonde tried not to spill the breakfast he never ate. Gladio clapped a hand down on his back and bile nearly  _shot_ from Prompto’s mouth as he clambered to his hands and knees on the gritty dirt. Instinctively, he swallowed the burning fluid back down, grimacing and choking.

“Whoa, you alright, Prom?”

“I’m good,” the photographer replied, beaming up at Gladio, “I’m just tired.” The prince’s shield shrugged and walked away. Prompto sighed, watching his back as he left.  _I’m sorry._

~|~|~|~|~

“ _Iris!”_

“Gladio!” Prompto called, Noctis shaking the shield’s shoulder. Immediately, Gladio jerked awake the same way Ignis did when he had bad dreams, though a bit more violently. Wild amber eyes flew open, massive muscles tensing. In seconds, Gladio paced away from camp, grumbling something about needing to piss. Noctis sighed, shaking his head and heading back into the tent with Ignis. But Prompto fought the headache hammering through his skull and ran after the largest of his friends.

“Gladio?” Prompto called in a hushed voice, wincing at the sharp pain that jolted through his head at the sound. His mouth was a desert, rolling with dry sands and burning climates, but he forced the last of his water on Ignis at dinner. His stomach growled like a starved sabertusk, but he made Noct eat an extra portion so he wouldn’t lose his energy. His heart hammered in his chest to the beat of his own torturous war drum, but determination overtook his fear and he pursued Gladio further into the tangle of trees and bushes.

He found what he searched for when he saw a tall, dark figure pacing back and forth in the dark, giant hands gripping and pulling long brunette hair. Careful not to alarm the shield, Prompto walked through the bushes as tall as he could to show he was human, not a daemon. To lie like he always did. Gladio never once looked up as Prompto came closer, only reacting when pale fingers reached out to touch his arm.

“I can’t do this anymore, Prom,” Gladio grumbled, turning to stare at the blonde. “We gotta get a move on. I can’t stop thinking about it if we’re still out here.”

“We only have to turn in the bounty and then we should be moving on to Lestallum,” Prompto reassured him, nodding confidently. His brain shattered in his skull with every bounce and he thought he saw bright flashes of light for a second. “That’s what Iggy said, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Gladio huffed, falling back against a tree trunk and sinking to the ground, his knees drawn up, he rested his elbows on top, and his head hung in defeat. “It’s exhausting. Haven’t slept well since Insomnia crashed and burned.”  _Tell me about it._

“I don’t think anyone has,” Prompto sighed, standing for fear that he might never get to his feet again. His body hurt  _that_ bad. “But we can try, right? It’s almost morning. Laying down could do you some good.”

“I think I’ll just stay here,” Gladio muttered, leaning his head up against the tree trunk. Torn, Prompto fought between going back to camp or collapsing here and never walking again. Reading the gunman like one his novels, Gladio grunted. “You can go, Prom. I wanna be alone anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Prompto dragged himself back to camp, collapsing in the tent next to Ignis. His bones rattled, his muscles burned, his head pounded.  _Maybe I just need more sleep._ Almost impossible with Ignis of all people tossing and turning, mutter under his breath in his sleep with his glasses clutched in his hand. Morning broke before Prompto even shut his eyes.

The whole drive to Lestallum, Prompto thought he would puke. He could hardly see clearly, but the circles he saw under his eyes in the Regalia’s side mirror were close to black underneath his pale, freckled skin. He doubted that Ignis gave him food poisoning. Though, the advisor had a new tendency to be lost in thought while he worked. Maybe he messed up a newer recipe.

They never made it to Lestallum. Imperial MTs stopped them on the road and Noctis and Ignis took out most of them. Gladio, injured by an imperial’s lance, ignored his bleeding wounds and continued fighting. Prompto glanced down at a gash on his arm, covered it with a portion of his sleeve, and forced himself to carry on. If Gladio could take the beating, then so could he.

The party stopped at a motel for the night. Ignis suggested buying curatives and food at the nearby store; everyone but Prompto tagged along. The others left without question. The second the door clicked shut, Prompto dragged himself to the bathroom and threw up twice, choking and sputtering with exasperated tears wetting his cheeks. He had to be strong; why was his body so  _weak?_  He crawled out of the bathroom, stumbling to his feet and using the edge of the bed to stagger toward the armchair in the corner of the room. His vision faded and he could hardly hear anything but the echo of his own heavy breathing as he flopped into the sparsely cushioned seat. Seconds later, he went eerily still.

~|~|~|~|~

“Prompto?”

His eyes forced themselves open, wincing against the dim light of the motel room that still surrounded him. Blue-gray eyes peered back at him, filled with concern. The voice echoed in his head like his skull rested in a cavern, inhabited only by the most secretive of monsters.

“Specs, he doesn’t look good,” Noctis frowned, waving a hand in front of Prompto’s face. “Prom?”

“I…” Prompto croaked, his throat stinging and forcing him to shut his mouth.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Noctis persisted, pressing the back of his hand to his friend’s forehead. “He’s pretty warm, Iggy.” Ignis murmured something incomprehensible. “Prom? Prom! What’s wrong?!”

Prompto spun out of consciousness right then, eyes rolling back into his head as he felt two strong arms lift him into the air. His head spun, his breaths burned, and his bones screamed in protest. With a final wince, he truly lost all grasp on reality.

Centuries later, Prompto peeled his eyes open. The white ceiling loomed overhead in the shadows cast by the dim motel lights. Taking a deep breath, he flexed his fingers.  _Yup, still there._ He reached his hand up to brush the layer of blonde hair out of his face, grimacing at the slow burn rippling across his muscles.

“You awake?”

Heart leaping into his throat, Prompto sat up abruptly.  _Weak, weak, weak._ The fire raging through his body shrieked back at him, scorching him with every movement. He cried out in surprise, clutching his throbbing head. Somewhere to his left, a hand reached out and grasped his shoulder gently.

“Slowly, Prompto. You’ve yet to recover fully.”

“What happened?” Prompto asked, turning to see Ignis seated beside him on the edge of the bed. The advisor sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the tip of his middle finger.

“In one of our skirmishes, you must have been poisoned. It took us far too long to realize it…”

“It’s my fault,” Prompto said, cutting him off. “I should’ve… should’ve said something.”

“You didn’t know,” Noctis piped up, sitting across from him on the second bed in their room. Gladio set his book aside, giving the conversation his full attention. “ _We_  didn’t know. We should’ve been there for you.”

“No,” Prompto protested, fingers curling into his hair at his frustration. “It’s my fault.”

“Listen,” Gladio huffed, leaning forward with his elbows pressed into his thighs. “After Insomnia fell, none of us wanted to pay attention to anyone else.” He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, staring long and hard at the photographer. “You were the only one willing to stay up and push us around.”

“Sorry,” Prompto murmured.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Ignis assured him. “Had you stood back and done nothing, I’m afraid we might have lost our sanity.”

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed with a nod. “You sat around and listened to me ramble for a week. That takes some dedication.” Prompto watched as the others nodded, heart pounding against his chest. He shook his head, hands falling to his lap.

“Guys… I failed. I was supposed to be strong, to be there for you, but…” His voice trailed off and he clamped his teeth down on the inside of his cheek. “I guess I couldn’t be, ‘cuz here I am.”

“You’re being utterly ridiculous.”

Startled, Prompto watched Ignis push himself to his feet and pace the motel room, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Noctis sighed, trying to keep the blonde’s attention.

“What’re you so afraid of? You were all cut up and poisoned and sick. What doesn’t  _help_ is you hiding it all so we can’t fix it. We’re a team, Prom. We all do our fair share.” He shakes his head, ebony hair waving before his face. “Or, we’re  _supposed_ to. You kinda… took it all for us.”

“I must sincerely apologize for all of us,” Ignis sighed, sitting on the bed beside Prompto. “We chose to be blind, and selfishly so. You went without sleep to ease our restlessness and you lent an ear whenever we needed it. I’m ashamed to admit you gave up your own meals so I would eat and keep my strength up.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Gladio nodded. “Sorry, Prom. Shoulda paid attention.”

“And thanks,” Noctis added, a grateful smile growing on his lips.

“You guys suck.” Prompto laughed weakly, wincing when his sides ached. “You know that? It’s not on you. I just… wanted to belong.”

“You  _do_  belong,” Noct reassured him, frowning. “You don’t have to be raised in a castle to  _matter._ ”

A heavy silence overtook the room. Prompto stared down at his lap, fingers picking at the threadbare fabric of his shirt. From the corner of his eye, he watched Ignis scold the others senseless with his glare alone. Sighing, the gunman shook his head and reached toward the side table. His phone felt smooth in his hand, solid. He glanced up at his companions, fighting a smile.

“Fine; you guys can make it up to me by letting me beat you in King’s Knight.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Noctis scoffed. “What’s the fun if we  _let_ you win?”

“Watching you squirm,” Prompto shrugged.

“I’m in,” Gladio shrugged, picking up his phone and his book at the same time. “I’ll just let it run.”

“Splendid idea,” Ignis muttered, murmuring something else about being forced into downloading petty video games on his cellular device.

Later, after several rounds of winning King’s Knight and a satisfying stack of garula steaks, Prompto fell back into the bed, wallowing in heavy blankets and mussing his hair on scratchy pillows. He accepted an antidote from Ignis and breathed a contented sigh as the lights flicked off and Noctis curled up next to him. Just as he leaned over the plummeting edge of sleep, his mouth spoke what his mind could not.

“You guys really are the best.”

**Author's Note:**

> Idea creds to the random person who created this prompt for others to carry out. I've been working on this since August and it is now almost February, so... yeah.   
> Also, feel free to check out ;) my bigger ;) 15 work ;);)  
> Shameless plug because it's my end note. Oh well.


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